


Red

by odditynumber42



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, i feel terrible for what i'm doing to kell and holland, kell gets taken by the danes, the danes are awful, the danes force holland to be intimate with kell, the danes play with kell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:36:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odditynumber42/pseuds/odditynumber42
Summary: Kell gets taken by the Danes. They have much in store for him, starting with torture, then moving on to force Holland's involvement through non-consensual sexual acts. Please don't read if you are uncomfortable with this.





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any suggestions, please feel free to comment them.

The sound of Kell’s screams rang throughout the white, spacious chamber. They reverberated off the cold stone of the palace walls, the sound of true pain and suffering. After ripping, tearing, and clawing themselves out of the Antari’s throat, they pierced him, again and again, as they shot off the ceiling and walls and right back to him. It was a sound that could bring a smile only to the lips of Astrid and Athos Dane. 

“Sister, I do believe it is time for our guest to have a break,” Athos reluctantly said, watching Kell’s chest rapidly rise and fall as he tried to manage the pain.

“But now that we have our flower boy, I don’t want to leave him alone. He’s such fun to play with. Just listen to the delicious sounds he makes,” Astrid replied with a pout, pushing a cold hand down onto Kell’s bare chest and his broken ribs, eliciting a pained moan. 

“I know you don’t want to stop, but we should allow him a short rest, lest we accidentally break him too soon. We have years to come, what can half an hour or so hurt?” Circling the trapped Antari, Athos tightened the chains binding Kell’s wrists and ankles to the table, as well as the hard, metal collar separating him from his magic. Coming once more to stand at his sister’s side, Athos dragged a finger through one of the pools of blood dripping off the edge, bringing it up to his lips, then to Astrid’s. “His screams aren’t the only delicious thing about him.” 

Holland watched all of this from a corner of the room, where he had been ordered to oversee the younger Antari’s torture. Astrid and Athos had been finding different ways to “play” with Kell for the past few hours. Their creativity knew no bounds--by the end of their first little session, Kell was a writhing mass of agony, from his head to his toes. The Danes used an array of methods, from magical to non magical, blunt objects to piercing ones. Holland felt sympathy for the Antari, who was now pale and shivering, bruises blossoming in a multitude of colors and cuts dripping with crimson blood. His eyes were scrunched shut in an attempt to ride out the excruciating waves of pain. But it wasn’t like there was anything Holland could do about it. As much as he hated to admit it, he was completely powerless under the Danes’ control, and there was no escape. So Holland stood in the corner, and watched as Kell was tortured, forced to listen to the Antari’s screams. Unable to stop any of it.

“You,” Athos pointed at Holland, not even deigning to use his name. “Clean up this mess, and have him ready for our return. I think I shall have you move him to the chain rope.” With that, the Dane twins strutted out of the room, taking time to glance back at Kell and giggle amongst themselves. 

After the king and queen’s departure, Holland gave a slight nod to himself before directing his attention back to the table and Kell. He approached slowly, out of hopes not to spook the distressed Antari any further. Stepping carefully, so as not to place his foot in Kell’s blood, he made his way to the edge of the table. Holland took a moment to consider the quivering Antari, whose breathing had finally slowed some. Kell acknowledged his presence with a fleeting look. There were no words to be spoken between them. Holland truly felt for Kell. He knew all too well what it was like to be strapped down and tortured by the Danes. There was nothing to be said about it. Kell knew of the Danes’ control over Holland, and Holland had a command he had to carry out. 

There were many different weapons stored underneath the table to choose from. Holland knelt down and picked up a small dagger. He straightened up again, turning the dagger over in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth white bone of the handle. “As Anasae,” Holland murmured, dragging the dagger across the palm of his hand. A thin red line followed in the dagger’s wake. Blood began to spill out of the cut, a stark contrast to the paleness of the surrounding skin. Not much was needed for the spell, and soon the pools and little streams of Kell’s blood vanished from the stone table, floor, and his body. As Holland watched the Antari’s blood dissipate, he thought about how it was sort of sickly amusing--having to draw blood in order to perform the spell to dispel it.

With a sigh, Holland got to work at undoing the chains locking Kell’s limbs to the table. He didn’t even bother wrapping up his cut (and still lightly bleeding) palm. The chains clinked and clattered as he released first the Antari’s ankles, then his wrists. Kell was silent and motionless as this was done, though he did seem to watch Holland’s every move with an intent gaze. At least, now that the pained glaze had left his face. 

As Holland finished undoing the chains, he found his eyes being drawn to Kell’s all-black eye, a startling inky void to his light, freckled face. Seeing the Antari’s solid black eye, Holland found himself reminded of how the two of them were the same in this regard, yet so incredibly different otherwise. Red London’s prince had come from a world of lavish palaces and loving family, whereas Holland Vosijk had come from a world of fierce competition, hopelessness, betrayal, and loneliness. However, the two of them were still united in their magic. Being the last of a dying breed connected them in a way that nothing else could. Looking at Kell, Holland was reminded of what he could’ve had if he were lucky enough to have been born in a different London. But he didn’t resent Kell for that, and he certainly didn’t wish this torture on him (or anyone, for that matter). And so Holland gathered the Antari into his arms, and, with a heavy heart, carried him over to the chain rope as ordered to do so by his king.


End file.
